


Elegy

by pickledragon



Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: (hopefully lol), Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, DCEU Canon, Ficlet, Gen, Slash if you squint, i have no idea how to feel about gun!batman so here is my rationalization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27795814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickledragon/pseuds/pickledragon
Summary: Bruce Wayne and grief: a tale as old as time.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Elegy

**Author's Note:**

> oh man, i just watched justice league and hoo boy, was that a mess of a film. i loved it an abnormal amount. anyways here is fic for this film's specific sandbox ;)

Bruce pulls himself out of grief, pulls this new, fractured mess of individuals into something barely resembling a team. And all he can think the entire time is: ‘Clark could have done this better.’ 

He’s a leader without gumption, pushing Diana into the position when he could just as easily slip in next to her: the shadows aren't even an excuse anymore, when his intentions are broadcast with his every action. It's obvious: Arthur's confidence, Barry's wonder, Diana's trust - Bruce is building a team out of everything he's ever failed at, sowing seeds for the heroes that will hopefully replace him. 

Superman had been everything he wasn't. He's a spectre here, in his databases of powerful individuals, in the hole he was sure to leave in the roster.

If he'd been wiser, able to look past his own pride, more dedicated, less _himself_ , maybe Bruce'd have been able to—he cuts the thought off at the gate.

Fuck. _Fuck._ He has a world to save.

Bruce isn't a stranger to burying himself in work, to grabbing what he can from a disaster and spending the next eternity trying to patch together the pieces. Superman shouldn't be special: he's killed more people than he wants to think about, bloodstained hands to beget worse things than he'd ever dreamed of when he'd started this venture. Deservingness varies, but that only matters so much when they all end up the same place.

Batman has become so much more than he'd wanted - so much less, too. Right now, it's his release from a world descending into chaos, the satisfying thunk of leather gauntlet on someone who probably deserves it less than he does.  
He doesn't really know if he was in the right anymore. Doesn't think he cares, as long as it means he can crawl out of the consequences of his many, deadly mistakes.  
Bruce's character flaws have body counts.

Diana can tell - of course she can, like recognizes like, the mirror reflection obvious to anyone who looks. Bruce knows about Steve, used it to pull her into the light, cascade as a part of the game he'd considered himself so highly for crafting. She carries her loss around like a walking wound, a memorial to the dead circled around her throat - knot pulled tight and the rope hanging limp. Bruce used to begrudge her that. Now he understands.

Bruce doesn't believe the guilt ever fades. If he believed in ghosts, surely there'd be one haunting his every step - the clinical emails he exchanges with Lois Lane, the black banners strewn across every surface. _You did this,_ they say; Bruce nods his assent.

...

He knows what the motherboxes can do, when he starts seeking them out. The last gasp of a dying man, trying to make up for his mistakes. He can see the caution and the pity in Diana's eyes, awe in Barry's, the warning in Arthur's.  
_What's the worst it can be?_ he reasons to himself in the dead of night. _A life for a life._

But never let it be said Bruce Wayne knows how to turn back once he's started.

He's not sure he knows how to.


End file.
